


Snippets from the Heart

by fandomine



Series: Hanahaki [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Male Apprentice (The Arcana)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomine/pseuds/fandomine
Summary: A collection of unrelated Hanahaki shorts, set in Vesuvia starring Arcana apprentices. Written with miss606writes.tumblr.com





	1. Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in conjunction with miss606writes.tumblr.com. The italicized parts are hers.

_Chava scowled, hand to her throat as it stung. It had been hurting for a while now, but the redhead never gave it much thought. She would get something from Raen for it later._

_A soft touch at her shoulder made Chava look up. The girl was frowning, a question on her lips, but Chava laughed it off, saying she was fine. She didn't want to worry the storm-eyed girl._

_They were walking home, following the golden trail cast by the setting sun. Their hands would graze each others' ever so lightly every now and then, causing an uncomfortable tightening in Chava's throat. It felt like a noose._

_She smiled when they reached a fork in the road, waving as the other girl took the path to the right. It was only when her head had disappeared from view that Chava sagged down to her knees, a sudden coughing fit overwhelming her. It pulsed through her whole body, drawing a line of fiery pain straight from her throat to her jaw._

_When her breathing returned to normal, Chava stood again. Her golden eyes were dull, staring at her palms. She wasn't surprised. She already knew the other didn't love her._

_Chava crushed the chrysanthemum petals in her hand, not sure if they were red due to coloration or blood. It didn't matter anyway._

 

* * *

  

Above all, Morrigan was a princess, and she took her job very seriously. Admittedly, more seriously than she should have. Her grey eyes had grown inhumanely dark and grim over the years (or had they just been like that when she was born?).

She regarded those around her as tools in a toolbox. A wrench for doing this, a Swiss knife for doing that. A hammer for pushing things into place; pliers for pulling out the annoying bits of life. An average mechanic goes to those lumber-and-home-improvement stores like Home Depot or _Mike's Hardware Corner Store_ (a good tool isn't any better between one store or the other) and places them on a wall in their workshop. And like any good mechanic, she threw them out once they got all rusty and broken. 

Nevermind the fact that they had names and families and weren't wrenches or screwdrivers or hammers or pliers. Adam, for instance, was her errand boy as well as her brother-- but you know which title came first, to her. He was swayed by money so easily and she knew it. Although he didn't like the arrangement, he'd grown accustomed to pricing his pride by a months' worth of rent (he had a wife, you know, and she was expecting. Morrigan knew this as well). Being a princess and all, weighed with replacable gold on her wrists, Morrigan could easily afford him.

Morrigan bought them off. She bought all of them off, all the people she knew; and it was a very sad life, although she didn't realize it.

So it was really no surprise that she regarded the ruffled red hooligan beside her no more than a book on the coffee table. Admittedly a good read, fine, but she wasn't in the business of reading a book more than once, no matter how well-written. She had better things to do. And so she hardly noticed the flower petals stray on the table whenever they went out for tea. The phenomenon had been popping up more and more often as the fall became heavier and heavier. The flower petals had been darker and redder than ever lately. But she brushed it off as nothing. 

One would think a keen eye such as hers would investigate it. A nice person would think that Morrigan knew, deep down, and on top of that knew who's fault this all was, and further knew the future facing Chava, but that she had buried the knowledge in the back of her mind out of guilt.

"I'll see you at tea time tomorrow, Chava?" she said as they parted at the branch in the road. She was met with a withering stare- although, just what was withering was up for debate.

"Y-yeah." Chava's voice was hoarse.

Morrigan may have hesitated just then. "Very well." She nodded curtly and turned away down the road. 


	2. Forgotten Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in conjunction with miss606writes.tumblr.com. The italicized parts are hers.

"...Y'know, I think you're different," said Reba, who'd let her milk go through the stages of chilly, lukewarm, and then room temperature. Milk is never really worth drinking once it gets to that stage. Adam looked up, agitated at the sudden breaking of the silence which had been nice to him, but had been getting under her skin for the past hour-and-a-half.

"Ever since we got back from Mom's," she continued. "And saw-"

An uncomfortable pause. "Well. _You know_."

 _You know_ referred to God himself, whom they had had the unlikely, and unfortunate, opportunity to take court with the last time they'd visited home, home being a strange and sandy place in the middle of nowhere. A set of ethereal gods governed by its own gods, unforgiving and cold and relentless.

Adam smiled. It was a horribly straightforward smile and stretched his pale cheeks wide. It was reminiscent of _you know_.

"Don't know what you mean. I feel fine," he said.

"See, that's the thing! You never feel fine. You're usually grumpy and bitch about whatever you can, because you can." She made wild and flustered motions with her hands. "You've been awful quite these past few days. And- and when was the last time you visited Nico? Or your damn girlfriend. For fucks sake. You _promised_ you'd meet up with them after we got back. But Nico told me you never dropped by the flower shop, and Elana told Chava- who told me- that Raen hasn't heard from you since we got back."

"Mmmmm."  
  
"She's been worried sick." 

"Mmhm."

"What d'you have to say about it?" 

Adam idly sipped his fifth coffee that morning, hardly looking up from his book.

One would think he hadn't heard, but it wasn't like he'd suddenly become deaf. Reba banged her hands on the table. The salt shaker stirred.

" _Say_ something!"

She was beginning to become irate, and so Adam, deciding to cut his loses, finally gave in and gave her what she wanted: a response. Disappointing as it was. "Who?" 

"What?" she said tightly. 

"I said, _Who are you talking about_?" Adam leaned dangerously far back in his chair, which was very un-Adam like, and then propped his legs up on the table, which was _extremely_ un-Adam like. Dirt from the garden sprinkled the tabletop. "Don't know who you're talking about."

A milk bottle went whizzing past his head. Reba stood, huffing. Adam-- who very clearly had lost all faculties of heart-- looked up then. Lazily, his brows raised as he turned and regarded the wet white splatters on the walls and floor.

"You'd better clean that up," he sighed, in the most slightly-inconvenienced way possible, turning back to reading. "The mop's in the closet, next to that old wreath from last Christmas. Did you buy that, by the way?"

"You're absolutely shit-fucking me." Reba knew well that the wreath had come from Raen, as a present celebrating their very first holiday together. It had been beautifully decorated with pretty red flowers all along it, silver tinsel breaking through the gaps in the entwining branches elegantly; there was no mistaking that it was her handiwork. And Reba knew that Adam knew too. He was just playing dumb for sport. _Right?_

"I'm going to the Raven," said Adam, who was suddenly standing next to the coat rack. _How'd he do that?_  

Reba raised a brow. _And when did he get that leather jacket...?_  

It wasn't his style.

"Since when do you go to the Rowdy Raven by yourself?"

He shrugged at her and smiled. It was sickly, and petulant. Then, he looked at her for the first time in several days.

It's special when the mind completely and absolutely separates from the body. This particular defense mechanism is saved for rare occasions. The mind is fragile and only built for so much, not for things such as, say, one's twin brother's eyes melting from purple to black. Reba nearly fell over, her head spinning like a top. Adam wasn't Adam. He was a _thing_ masquerading around town wearing Adam's face as a mask, like some sort of Hannibal Lecter-esque being, with the most shit-eating, self-congratulatory grin.

"Ad?" Reba said desperately.

"Who?"

Reba felt like she was about to throw up. "Well, fine, you- you hit your head or something," she said, in a tone which couldn't convince the most gullible person. "But at least don't forget _Raen._ "

"I told you I don't fucking know who that is."

Just then, somewhere in their small town which had suddenly grown dreary, one could hear the hacking cough of an ill young woman as the first flower petals fell from her mouth.

 

* * *

 

_It hurt. Raen could feel thorns hooking into her throat, tearing at the flesh as she coughed up bloodied rose petals. She didn't know how much longer she would last. Breathing was getting harder by the day._

_"Raen-" The familiar voice broke off, quickly turning into hurried footsteps as her friend ran to where she was lying. Elana's hands felt cold against her hot, clammy skin._

_"Oh, sweetling," the older girl mumbled, pulling her into her arms. She had been bundled on the floor, forehead against her bedframe since 4 am. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe._

_"How long have you been hiding this, dear?" Elana's long fingers cupped her face, gently turning it to look at her. "You know there's an operation for this, don't you? I can call the healer right now."_

_Raen shook her head, her cheeks wet. Not loving him would hurt more. Elana's eyes softened as she looked at the love ill girl._

_So she hugged her. She held her to her chest, rocking Raen back and forth like a mother would, singing soft lullabies in a language Raen didn't understand but it felt older than the dust in her bones._

_Raen didn't know how long she had left, but at least she would die with the taste of his name on her tongue. The white rose petals on her lap was turning pink from all the blood._


End file.
